Of Physicists & Rock Stars
by DrawnToTheRhythm
Summary: Set during Threads. In the time between Daniel returning and Jack leaving, a few friends from the past stir up trouble of the romantic kind for our favourite team. S/J
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: Not mine, owned by MGM yadda, yadda, yadda, no copyright infringement intended. I'm just playing with the crayons in the box.

A/N: I wanted to write a fic that countered all of those Celtic cliché fics owing to Jack's "Irish" heritage. I also incorporated a few other snippets of ideas I'd had and don't have the time to write whole new fics for. I hope you enjoy!

For Daniel's reference : See A/N at the bottom of each page for the "Doric-to-English" dictionary for that chapter ;)

…..

"Is that Teal'c's Jaffa symbol?"

Jack's voice rose above the sound of Daniel's rambling as he waved at the image on the screen. Pausing the Powerpoint presentation, Daniel pulled his glasses off and began wiping them on his t-shirt hem.

"Actually, no, it's a Pictish symbol of a serpent."

"_Pictish_?"

"Celtic tribes people from Europe."

Jack nodded slowly.

Teal'c tilted his head across the briefing room table towards Jack.

"Are you not a member of a Celtic tribe, O'Neill?"

Next to Jack, Sam coughed and hastily took a sip of lukewarm water from the half-full tumbler on the table in front of her, hiding her smirk behind the glass as she did so.

"_Top 'o' the mornin' to ya," _Jack drawled in a terrible approximation of an Irish brogue and rolled his eyes at Teal'c. "I'm 7th generation American, Teal'c, I'm about as Irish as Carter is Scandinavian!"

Sam turned to face him with a frown.

"What?" Jack responded to her look, "You're the stereotype of a Norse goddess… doesn't mean you're related to Greta Garbo!"

Sam's glass hit the table with a thump in the deafening silence. Daniel turned to regard Jack with a gleam in his eye and a smirk. Jack raised his eyebrows at his former team.

"What?!"

"I believe you just referred to Colonel Carter as a goddess," Teal'c supplied, clasping his hands together in front of his face, elbows propped on the shiny oak surface.

Jack's eyes flicked to Sam and back to Teal'c.

"No… I, uh, oh for cryin' …, you know what I meant!"

Teal'c's eyes gleamed.

"Indeed."

Sam regarded him with an amused gaze.

"Actually, Sir, my family name is English, technically speaking."

Daniel cleared his throat.

"Anyway, as I was saying, _wrong_ Celtic nation. The Picts, or more accurately, the Taexali, were from the Grampian region of Scotland. Not much is known about the individual tribes except a few engravings in the local stone. One in particular, of a serpent and a z-rod, is similar to the one found on P4C-282 by SG-9 last month." Daniel switched to the next slide. "As you can see from this photograph of granite unearthed just outside Aberdeen-"

"Yeah, yeah, we get it, Daniel. Scotland, Braveheart, something to do with snakes…"

Daniel frowned and crossed his arms.

"Actually Braveheart is set on the West Coast, Aberdeen is the North-East. Completely different ancestral heritage."

"Whatever. Look, Daniel, can you just get to the point sometime soon?" Jack snapped, still smarting from his accidental admission about Carter.

"Fine, Jack," Daniel retorted with a knowing smirk, "I think we've found something potentially interesting but I can't read the inscription on the tablet SG-9 brought back." Seeing Jack's eyes starting to glaze over, Daniel pulled out his ace. "The Picts have historical links to battles with the Vikings," At Jack's blank look, Daniel explained further, "The Vikings? Norse Gods? The Asgard?"

"Ah!" Jack said, realisation dawning.

"I called a friend in Scotland and, with your permission, I'd like to bring him in as an advisor. He's one of the few people on Earth who may be able to translate the tablet."

"Who is this friend?" Jack enquired.

"Dr Graeme Buchan. He's a lecturer in Archaeology at the University of Aberdeen. He's on a plane as we speak and due to arrive in Colorado Springs in a few hours. He was scheduled to speak at a conference in Honolulu next week but when I called him he decided to fly out a few days earlier and make a stop by the mountain on the way."

"Does it say 'General' anywhere on my uniform?" Jack groused, letting out an exaggerated sigh, "Would you mind at least giving me a heads up before you invite people to our _top secret _military base?!"

"Well, if you want to get this thing translated ASAP, then he's your guy."

Jack waved his hands dismissively.

"Fine, fine, when does he arrive?"

Just as Daniel pursed his lips to respond, Sgt Harriman entered the room.

"Sir, there's a visitor to see Dr Jackson at the front gate. A Dr Buchan?"

Jack turned to Daniel and glared.

"Very well, Sgt. Escort him to the briefing room. Usual drill."

"Yes, Sir. Full disclosure forms. I'll bring him down as soon as possible, Sir."

"Actually Sgt I think I'll go with you," Daniel added, placing the remote control for the projector on the table. "I should probably be there when you read him the Riot Act."

….


	2. Chapter 2

Half an hour after heading up to greet his guest, Daniel returned to the briefing room. Behind him, a rather short man with broad shoulders and brown hair followed Daniel to the table. He appeared to be a similar age to Daniel. He headed straight for the General.

"General O'Neill, I assume? Fine to meet you," he said with a strong accent, extending his hand towards Jack. Jack stood and regarded him whilst returning the firm handshake.

"Likewise… Dr," Jack responded, "I just wish Dr Jackson had given us a bit more notice!" His gaze levelled at Daniel which he studiously ignored. Graeme smiled knowingly.

"Danny never was the most organised o' loons!"

Jack squinted and Daniel stepped forward.

"Uh, he means "guy" not a crazy person."

Teal'c stood.

"Is a loon not a winged creature, DanielJackson?"

"Yeah, it is, Teal'c. Sometimes English words have many different meanings."

Teal'c nodded and bowed his head.

"Dr Buchan it is a pleasure to make your acquaintance."

Graeme copied the bow unfazed.

"Afa fine to meet you too, Mr…?"

"Ah, Teal'c. It's just Teal'c," supplied Daniel, impressed at his friend's lack of intimidation by Teal'c's imposing form.

"…Teal'c," Graeme finished. Turning to Sam, he grinned.

"Dr Carter?"

Sam started at the familiarity of his tone.

"Dr Cox telt me tae "pass along his regards"," He straightened up slightly, "an' he also telt me I was tae say ye still owe him that drink!"

Sam suddenly looked extremely amused.

"You work with Brian? I didn't realise he was teaching in Scotland."

Graeme chuckled.

"He disnae work wi' me jist noo, like. He's back doon in Manchester when he's nae in the States. Besides, teaching's a loose term fae fit he does, ken? Mare like chases the quines and picks up research grants between dates! I think he's o'er here this week actually."

Sam chuckled and held her hand out to him.

"That sounds like Brian! And, please, call me Sam."

As Sam began chatting animatedly with Dr Buchan, Jack silently glared at Graeme's back, nudged Daniel and lowered his pitch for Daniel's ears only.

"Is he speaking English?"

Daniel grinned.

"To a point. It's a Scottish dialect called Doric. It's exclusive to the North-East region of Scotland. I think that tablet is a variation of it but I'm not familiar enough with the written form to translate it myself."

"Ah!", Jack responded, nodding his head slowly. "Well, you might want to show him to the guest quarters. He may be here a while."

….

A/N: So here's a bit of translation although I hope most things are evident through context:

Afa: "awfully", as in "awfully nice to meet you" not "terrible"

Disnae: "Does not"

Doon: "Down"

Fae: "From"

Fit: "What"

Jist: "Just"

Ken: "You know/You understand?" not a person's name.

Loon: "Young guy"

Mare: "More"

Nae: "No"

Noo: "Now"

Quine: "Young woman"

Telt: "Told"


	3. Chapter 3

Daniel handed Graeme the tablet and he ran his fingers across the granite surface.

"So far's this fae again?"

Daniel ran a hand through his hair.

"I, uh, can't tell you. It's classified."

"Well, this thing looks afa new for something you reckon is over 300 years old!" he said with a disbelieving frown. "Did you dig it up?"

Daniel leant against the edge of his desk with his arms out straight, leaning and peering over Graeme's shoulder.

"No, it was in a… temple of sorts."

Graeme raised a sceptical eyebrow and nestled his glasses further down his nose. He held the tablet up to the light and it glistened purple.

"And you said this is made fae granite?"

Daniel nodded. Graeme put the tablet down and wagged a finger at him.

"I dinnae ken fit this is but I've lived in the Granite City all ma days and I ken fits granite and fits nae. This is nae granite in any form I've ever ken't it." At Daniel's abject silence, he continued. "Fair enough, ye nae gonna tell me the truth. Fine." He picked up a whiteboard marker and, leaning the tablet on its stand, he turned to face the large whiteboard just behind him. "I might nae be able t' ken exactly what it is, but I *can* tell ye fit it says," he finished with a sly grin.

Daniel stood up straight, an excited pitch to his voice.

"So it *is* Doric?"

Graeme continued scribbling on the whiteboard and pushed his glasses down his nose slightly to stare at Daniel over the top of them.

"It's some *form* of Doric, alreet. I'm just nae very sure the origin. Like maybe someone fae Shetland tried te copy it but it's nae quite right somehow." At Daniel's blank stare, he paused. "Put it anether way, it's like someone fae Brooklyn spekin' like a Texan. The general pattern is there and most o' the vocabulary is correct but it's nae just convincing enough to fool a native speaker. If ye ask me, I think it's been translated fae anether language. Like the Rosetta stone, ken?"

Daniel leant back against the desk and crossed his arms across his chest.

"So, what does it say?"

"It's an instruction manual." Graeme stated calmly as he finished his scribbles on the board. He looked back at the tablet and then back to the board and, satisfied that his translation was correct, he re-capped the marker pen and sat back down on Daniel's swivel chair. "It explains how if you press a button with a… swan… on it, followed by a chair, a pyramid-like thing and five other objects you'll reach something called … the Fifth Race?" Graeme shook his head. "Does this mean anything at aw to ye? Because if it wis nae you and we weren't *here*" He gestured around him to the base, "I'd swear it was a fake, like."

Daniel's eyes lost some of their shine and he suddenly bounced with pent-up energy.

"You're sure, Graeme? Absolutely certain?"

Graeme nodded his head firmly.

"Yup, as sure as I can be without ye tellin' me what the devil this is all aboot."

Daniel sighed dejectedly.

"Thanks, Graeme, you've been a huge help. At least we can now rule it out as the thing we were looking for."

Graeme smirked slyly.

"And fit, pray tell, *were* ye hopin' te find oot aboot?"

Daniel grinned.

"I cannae tell ya, laddie!," he mumbled in an awful mangled Glaswegian accent.

Graeme grimaced and then chuckled.

"Did anyone ever tell ye that your accents really need work? Dinnae ever say that to a Glaswegian unless you want a Glesga kiss!"

Daniel frowned.

"Do I *want* to know what that is?"

Graeme stood and patted Daniel jovially on the shoulder.

"Probably nae, probably nae!" He gestured to the door. "Now, did ye say that ye ken't the chef in this place? I'm famished and I wis hopin' I could have a blether wi' Sam. Mebbe we could aw' get a pint tomorrow night? I heard Brian might be in town and he's dying to pick her brain about some new idea o' his!"

Daniel laughed and he whispered conspiratorily.

"Well, if he's got his sights on more than that, between you and me, he's gonna have a fight on his hands!"

Graeme stopped dead and spun on his heel.

"You mean you and Sam…" He smirked, "Get in there! Brian never telt me just fit a fine lookin' quine she is! Beauty *and* brains? She's a fine catch, right enough."

Daniel gasped in horror.

"God, no!" At Graeme's surprise at such a vehement denial, he relaxed and re-phrased. "Sam is like a sister to me, I would never even…" He paused. "Nevermind. We can head to Cameron's Bar tomorrow night."

…

A/N:

Alreet: "Alright!"

Far: "Where"

Telt: "Told"

Wis: "Was"


	4. Chapter 4

"So, Carter, you and Dr Buchan have a friend in common?"

Sam's head whipped up from her notes to see Jack loitering at her office door, brushing imaginary lint off the door frame. He was backlit by the harsh corridor strip lights and in the relative dimness of her lamp-lit office she had to squint to make out his features. Placing her notes to one side, she smiled weakly and stood up.

"Sir!," she said warmly, "Come in." He regarded her momentarily and Sam's smile slipped just a fraction. She swallowed loudly. "Not that, er, you need *my* permission… Sir," she added as an afterthought, suddenly aware of how insubordinate that may have sounded. She just couldn't read him as well as she used to be able to and she found herself constantly second-guessing herself around him ever since Pete.

Jack frowned and waved his hand dismissively, confused at her sudden formality.

"Oh, pshaw, Carter! Your space, your rules. I know better than to step in the middle of something I shouldn't."

Sam tilted her head towards her left shoulder and regarded him with a confused expression. Jack rubbed the back of his neck awkwardly. Damnit! How had he managed to make such an innocent comment into a gaping hole of a double-entendre that he'd walked right into? He cleared his throat loudly.

"So, uh, who is this Dr Cox guy?" He asked with as much nonchalance as he could muster. To his own ears he failed monumentally. It earned a ghost of a smile from Carter.

"Officially he was my post-Doc research assistant for a while when I was at the Pentagon," She filled in, "*Un-officially*, well, Sir, he kind of… kept me sane after the car crash that was Jonas. He was a good friend, Sir."

Jack turned his head and raised his eyebrows to his hairline.

"A good *friend*, you say?"

Sam chuckled at his accusatory tone.

"Not like *that*, Sir. He was a good sounding board. And he was the only one who could keep up with me at the bar, Sir."

At that, Jack coughed slightly and waved his hands in front of his face.

"Ah, yes, well, Daniel says he's in town apparently. Wants us all to go out for a drink. Thought you might… after, you know, P-, er, stuff. They're all heading out to Cameron's bar tomorrow night."

"*They*, Sir?"

Jack picked up a battery pack from Sam's desk and began turning it over in his hands.

"Well, I figured you kids wouldn't want me cramping your style."

Sam grinned.

"I think I speak for us all when I say that you're more than welcome, General." She stepped forward, gently tugged the battery pack from his grasp and placed it on the table just out of his reach. He almost-pouted and stuffed his hands in his pockets which made Sam snort. She quickly covered with a sniff. He began to make an excuse and Sam placed a hand on his bicep. He froze. "Please, Sir. Come out for a drink. Meet the guys properly."

He nodded and stepped back, coughing awkwardly to cover how much Sam's sudden proximity was affecting him in ways that he wouldn't admit to under torture.

"Ah, sure. If you insist."

She nodded.

"I do, Sir."

He met her gaze and balled his hands into fists. Damn, did she have to keep looking at him like that since Pete had left the picture? He only had so much control left, especially in the wake of Kerry's parting shot a few weeks ago and he'd rather go five rounds with Ba'al and his toys than even think of tarnishing Carter's perfect military record. God damnit, but something was gonna have to give. Soon. For the sake of his sanity. And, to make things worse, some hot-shot British genius had showed up and seemed intent on that drink she had apparently promised him. Great, Jack, just great. Another schmuck to beat you to the finish line!

Forcing his gaze away from those darkened blue orbs, he stared at the floor somewhere in front of his boots.

"Sure, Carter. Since you asked so nicely. I'll be there. Twenty-hundred at Cameron's."

Just as the silence began to stretch a little too far, he waved a hand at the door, mumbled something about reports and about-turned, leaving a slightly flustered Colonel in his wake. Once he was gone, she slumped and pursed her lips in a silent whistle. This holding pattern, or whatever the hell they were doing, whilst relieved that Pete was finally out of the picture, was starting to get incredibly frustrating.


	5. Chapter 5

At exactly 20:00 Jack opened the door of the bar and surveyed the bustling crowd. It wasn't packed and there were still a few tables left but it was by no means a slow night. That might end up working to his advantage if he had to make a strategic exit stage left. Why had he agreed to come along again? Oh yeah, because Sam had asked. He *really* needed to stop responding to that. He would start tomorrow, he decided. Yasureyabetcha.

Daniel spotted him first and waved him over to their booth at the back of the bar. Sam sat on a chair at the empty semicircle side of the large round table as Daniel, Teal'c and Graeme filled over half of the rounded leather bench on the opposite side. A band was setting up on the stage and in the meantime, generic 80's rock played from the jukebox. Jack approached the table and the guys greeted him with variations on his name. He responded with a mumbled greeting but it was Carter's greeting which surprised him the most. She nodded at him and beamed her megawatt smile at him, her eyes sparkling. But as soon as she had glanced up at him, her gaze drifted past him to someone approaching them from the stage. Jack turned to face the irritating stranger who had interrupted their moment.

"Sam!," the stranger enthused, "How's it going, gorgeous?"

Sam stood and stepped towards the guy. He was tall and lanky, with floppy black hair, skinny jeans, converse sneakers and a 70's band t-shirt topped off with a fitted brown leather zip-up jacket. He wrapped his slim arms around Sam in a tight hug which she returned with equal enthusiasm. When he let go, he ruffled her hair and grinned cheekily. Sam laughed.

"Brian!," She admonished, "Cheeky as ever, I see?"

Jack cleared his throat as Daniel watched on, making no effort to conceal his amusement at Jack's obvious discomfort.

"I'd like you to meet the guys. Brian, you already know Graeme. Daniel Jackson, Teal'c and General Jack O'Neill, meet Brian Cox."

Daniel and Teal'c offered pleasantries and Jack just nodded. Brian held out his hand to Jack.

"Wow, a General, eh? Gotta say you don't look old enough to be one of the starched shirt brigade, mate! It's great to finally meet the mysterious team that Sam tells me absolutely *nothing* about!" He nudged her in the ribs and she shushed him. "My round, what you all drinking?" He turned to Jack. "O'Neill, *tell* me that you drink real beer and not that watery crap most of you Americans love so much?"

Jack grinned conspiratorily.

"Since you're offering, I'll have a Guinness."

Brian slapped him jovially on the arm.

"Good man, good man!"

Jack leaned towards Brian slightly.

"It's Jack."

Brian beamed at the group.

"Fantastic! Daniel? Teal'c? What ya drinkin'? The lads and I are dying of thirst up there. Lugging all that stuff around is hard work. We aren't as young as we used to be!"

Jack stuck his hands in his pockets.

"You're with the band?" He asked, surprised.

"He's *in* the band!," Graeme supplied, "They had a couple o' hits a few years ago but it fizzled oot so now he's got his sights set on becoming the world's coolest Quantum Mechanics Prof *ever*," he said, his tone dripping sarcasm.

"Oh shut up, yer muppet!" Brian yelled at him over the music. "Come and give me a hand with the beer!"

Jack shuffled across to the seat next to Sam, sandwiching her between himself and Teal'c as Graeme stood to head to the bar.

"What is it with your friends and accents?" Jack muttered, gesturing at Daniel and Sam. Sam grinned.

"I dunno, it's kinda cute."

Jack snapped his head to face her.

"*Cute*? Isn't he a little old for cute?" Jack gestured in the direction of the bar, "He's gotta be, what, … thirty…five?"

Daniel snorted and nudged Teal'c. Apparently he'd already started on the beers.

Sam looked up at Jack from under her eyelashes and smiled shyly.

"Who said I was talking about Brian?"

"Graeme?! Seriously?" Jack sat back in his seat, shocked.

"Well, you know what they say about Scottish men, right?" Sam replied straightfaced.

"Ah, no actually, I don't," Jack retorted, "And I'm not sure I want to know, Carter!"

She leaned in a little closer as the volume of the music increased.

"The same thing they say about Irishmen. Sir." She said.

"Oh, for…, I'm *not* Iri-", Jack groused before noticing the almost imperceptible smirk on Sam's face.

Daniel cleared his throat loudly and gestured for Jack to move around the table towards him. Jack shrugged and leaned across the table.

Daniel grinned widely. Oh, for crying out loud, he was half way to drunk already.

"Uh, Jack, in case you hadn't noticed, Sam's former fiancé was Irish too. I don't think the fact that you're Irish is a problem!" He held up his hand to shield his mouth from Sam, "She's flirti-"

"DANIEL!" Jack yelled over the music, "So help me, if you finish that sentence I'll-"

"One pint of Guinness, as ordered!"

Jack looked up to see Graeme holding several bottles of beer and Brian juggling three pint glasses of Guinness. Plonking them down on the table, Brian took Jack's seat next to Sam and handed Jack his pint. If looks could kill Daniel would have been a pile of smoking cinders.

Brian held up his pint and clinked glasses with Daniel.

"Cheers!"

Jack forced himself to smile and nodded his thanks. And proceeded to sit for the next half an hour watching Sam talk animatedly to the lanky scientist while Graeme chatted to Daniel. Eventually, Graeme turned to look at Jack and turned back to speak to Daniel.

"Daniel, I'm sorry, but I hafta ask," he said, gesturing at Jack with his eyebrows, "Fit's the score wi' these two, eh? She's bin glancing o'er at him all night and, if we were nae in a bar, I think Brian would be oot cold by now!"

Daniel sighed loudly.

"Yeah, well, I *did* try to tell you to warn Brian." Daniel took another sip of his beer. "It's … complicated. Military rules yadda, yadda, yadda. To be honest, I wish Jack would tell them to f-"

Jack slammed his beer on the table causing everyone at the table to cease speaking and stare it him. Sam glanced over, concerned. He gestured to the bar.

"I'm… just gonna get another round." He said, suddenly aware that he was uncomfortably the centre of attention. Graeme hopped up out of his seat.

"Hey, Jack, how 'boot I give ye a hand?" He turned and winked at Daniel. "Be right back."

Jack nodded and headed off to the bar.

"So, Jack, I've git ta ask, how do ye do it?"

Jack regarded him cautiously.

"Sorry Graeme, I'm not sure I know what you're asking?"

He nudged his shoulder in Sam's direction across the room.

"Git th' attention o' a girl like Sam," he said non-plussed.

"I, uh, don't? What?"

Graeme crossed his arms across his chest.

"That quine over there cannae keep her eyes off you fae more then five minutes, ken?" Jack scoffed in protest but Graeme cut him off. "Naw, I'm serious, Jack." He leaned towards Jack slightly. "Ye dinnae think he hasnae tried it? Brian gave up on that a lang time since, like" Graeme said, gesturing towards Brian, "She's nae interested. And by the looks o' things, she only has eyes fae you, pal."

Jack bristled.

"A couple of weeks ago she was engaged to another guy," Jack offered, clearing his throat.

"Really?" Graeme asked, intrigued. "Well, that *is* interestin'. So am I tae assume that she isnae ony mare?" Jack nodded. "Dare I ask why?"

Jack stood up a little straighter.

"I… couldn't possibly say."

Graeme grinned and folded his arms across his chest.

"Ye dinnae wanna, ye dinnae ken or ye ken but ye will nae admit it?" Silence. "Come on, Jack, ye cannae say she disnae turn ye heed?"

Jack put a hand on Graeme's shoulder.

"Graeme, could you at least *try* to speak English sometimes? I'm having a really hard time following the conversation"

Graeme laughed.

"Ye ken fine well fit I'm sayin'."

Jack dropped his arm and shook his head.

"Carter's been my second since the day we met," he explained.

"Yer fit?" Graeme asked.

"My Second-in-Command," Jack elaborated. "And I wouldn't have had it any other way."

Graeme frowned.

"So? Fit's that got te dee wi' onything?" Jack made an 'and' gesture at Graeme, "Oh, military, right. I guess ye have rules against that sorta thing."

"Bingo!" Jack exclaimed. He nodded over at Sam. "Besides, her brain is far too important to the planet to lose her from this job. Trust me."

"How lang, like?"

Jack frowned, puzzled.

"How lang you been workin' together?"

Jack nodded.

"Ah! Uh, almost eight years," he said quietly.

"Eight years!?," Graeme exclaimed causing the guy next to him to turn his head momentarily, "By te Christ! That's… well, ye've git a patience I would nae have had, Jack!"

Graeme narrowed his eyes at Jack and waved at the bartender.

"Fitever you people de under that mountain I dinnae wanna ken but if ye want my opinion, like, you're a fool."

Jack turned to the bartender to order a round before answering.

"That seems to be the popular consensus lately," He acquiesced. Graeme raised a questioning eyebrow. "Nevermind, it's a long story." Jack added, unsure why he'd even brought up Kerry's words of advice. "Besides, I may be transferring soon," he confessed.

Graeme looked a little surprised.

"Well, that's nae gonna help!"

Jack shrugged.

"Actually, it may… remove a few obstacles." Jack winced. "My… team… doesn't know yet so I'd appreciate if-"

"If I didnae say onything?" Graeme interrupted, "Nae bother, pal, nae bother." He slapped Jack on the arm before picking up four pint glasses – never let it be said a Scotsman can't juggle his beers, "Hey, if this transfer means that ye finally get yer hole, get in there, son!"

Jack watched dumbfounded as Graeme walked away grinning to himself. He could have sworn that he had… had he really just…? Jack launched after him with the rest of the drinks in his hands.

"Hey!"

….

A/N:

Dee: "Do"

Hasnae: "Has not"

Isnae ony mare: "Is not any more"

Lang: "Long"

Nae: "No"

Quine: "Young woman"

And, finally, "To get yer hole"… well, use your imagination (Yes, it *is* what it sounds like and, yes, it is a phrase used here lol)


	6. Chapter 6

"I think I'm up," Brian sighed as he downed the dregs of his pint and rose to his feet. The sounds of electric guitars being tested resonated in the small space. "Sam, it's been fun. Stick around after the gig, yeah?" He noticed Jack raise an eyebrow across the table. "You guys too," he hastily added. "I owe you a few" he finished, raising his now empty glass.

Sam watched as he walked away, shaking her head, and turned back to the table. She noticed that Jack was studying the head of his Guinness intently and smiled gently. He was really quiet tonight and she suspected it had something to do with Brian. More than once she'd seen him glare in Brian's direction as she chatted with him before taking another big gulp of his pint and looking away. Decision made, Sam shifted seats closer to Jack.

"Room for one more on that bench, Sir?", she asked smiling sweetly at him. He shifted along slightly.

"Sure, Carter," he said in a surprised tone, "Better view of the band from this side, eh?" He added. Sam paused momentarily, although it was a toss-up as to whom was more surprised at how catty his response had sounded. That thought gave Sam a slight tingle before a memory of the last time he had responded that way re-surfaced. A certain elevator ride from hell the previous year. She shuddered at the memory. Never again.

"Cold, Carter?"

Sam mentally shook herself and sat down on the bench next to him, deliberately scooting closer so that her whole body from shoulder to thigh was pressed firmly into his side. She could feel the heat of his thighs through the denim and a smell of leather, clean soap and a hint of gun oil permeated her nostrils. Prada could go to hell, as far as she was concerned, *no* cologne could match the smell of Jack O'Neill for an aphrodisiac. Her cavewoman self had wasted no time in zeroing in on Jack's Alpha demeanour and she had to admit, even without her lowered inhibitions, the mere presence of Jack anywhere within spitting distance invoked an involuntary heightening of her senses.

He nudged her gently with his elbow when she didn't answer his question.

"You ok?"

Sam turned her head to face him, her nose inches from his. She smiled, a slow full Carter beam and held his gaze. She must have caught him off guard because a flicker of shock passed through the chocolate brown pools before they noticeably darkened, even in the dim bar light.

"Yasureyabetcha," she whispered into his ear, causing him to shift in his seat. She nodded at Graeme who was animatedly chatting to Daniel. "You two seem to be getting along well," she commented, "I'm … a little surprised."

Jack shrugged.

"Oh, you know, for a geek he ain't too bad," Jack paused and smirked, "just, ah, don't be too shocked by some of the things he says."

Sam raised an eyebrow.

"Such as?"

Jack coughed and looked down at his lap.

"Uh, let's just say there are some Scottish phrases I could have lived without hearing tonight."

Jack grabbed his beer, taking a large gulp and almost choking on it.

"Now, now, Jack, swallow properly!" a drunk Daniel waded in from the opposite side of the booth.

"I'll bet he's been the one issuing that order a time or two," Graeme commented dryly towards Daniel, causing Sam to snort her beer out of her nostril and Jack to turn ten shades of ruby.

"GRAEME!" Jack barked across the table, equal parts raging and embarrassed. Sam waved him off whilst she recovered from inhaling her pint.

"S'ok, Sir," Sam reassured, hastily wiping down her jeans with a Kleenex from her purse. Dropping the soggy mush of tissue into an empty pint glass, Sam stood and pointed towards the bar. "Anyone want another?"

Daniel raised his hand and giggled and Graeme gave a "thumbs up" sign. Jack rolled his eyes and rose from his seat.

"Let me help you with that, Carter."

And with that the two military officers left the table and headed into the crowd.

Daniel hiccupped.

"Fifty bucks says they'll be married by the end of the year," he slurred, slapping his palm on the table.

Graeme smiled slyly.

"Oh, Jackson, there's nae way in hell I'd tak that bet. A hundred quid says they will nae last the month!"

…

As the bar began to fill with a crowd, Sam weaved her way through the mass of standing people. Jack's hand found its way to the small of her back and Sam could feel the heat of his fingers through the thin cotton of her t-shirt. They reached the bar which was three-deep by this point in the evening. Jack hung back as Sam nudged her way forward, his hand still resting on her back. The barman nodded at Sam to the annoyance of the middle-aged guy next to her. Sam smiled too-brightly at him and his annoyed frown turned to a slightly lecherous smirk as he gave her a not-so-subtle once-over. He was about to say something when he noticed Jack's arm attached to Sam's shirt. He looked up at Jack just as the barman repeated Sam's order back to her loudly across the bar and the look he gave the leery older guy had him suddenly finding the beer menu the most fascinating thing since Playboy. He looked sideways to check that Sam hadn't seen his little stand-off and, convinced that she was still negotiating with the bar staff, smirked a little to himself. Sometimes his withering General stare had its uses, even if Carter would've kicked his butt had she seen that little possessive manoeuvre. Hell, she wasn't even his to be possessive of. Maybe he needed to do something about that sooner rather than later before anyone *else* decided to jump in.

Sam turned and handed him several beers, picked up the rest of the round and gestured in the direction of the table across the room. Jack nodded and encouraged her ahead of him. Just as she passed, he called her name softly. She paused, tilting her head inquisitively.

"I, uh, there's something I…", a little flustered he cleared his throat awkwardly and started again, "It's getting a little stuffy in here. Wanna get some air?" he finished as casually as he could. Sam frowned.

"Uh, sure, let me just grab my jacket," she responded both puzzled and slightly worried at his unusual request. As they reached the table, Sam handed Daniel his beer and reached for her leather jacket. He frowned at her.

"Gonna get some fresh air," she answered, gesturing to the door. Daniel eyed Jack as he reached for his own jacket and raised an eyebrow.

"Uh huh."

Sam fixed him with a glare.

"*Daniel*…" she growled. He held his hands up in surrender and smirked in Jack's direction. She turned to Graeme. "We'll be right back,"

Graeme leaned back in his seat and raised his pint.

"Tak your time, quine, tak your time!"

Sam led the way out of the bar, nodding to the doorman on the way out. Brian spotted them leaving and smirked, shaking his head. Would Sam never learn that her taste in men was questionable at best?


End file.
